


Orange

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [11]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Cute, Cute Kids, Gay Parents, Gay Policemen in the 1970s, Gen, Kid Fic, Silly, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: There seems to be some confusion about how Ruthie feels toward orange.





	Orange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/gifts).



> This was a tumblr prompt by Dana: Ruthie's least favorite color! Enjoy!
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE CANON LIFE ON MARS CHARACTERS!!

Gene crept up to his two year-old’s bedroom door after hearing the noise. It was as if someone was throwing solid objects into a plastic bin.

He discovered it was just that. Ruthie was sitting on the floor in the middle of her bedroom with a pile of crayons to her left and a trash bin in front of her.

Sam had gotten her boxes of crayons with plenty of sketch pads full of paper since Ruthie had developed a penchant for drawing on the walls in the corridor. After receiving the crayons and paper, she scribbled and drew to her heart’s desire every day.

But now, she was casually tossing random crayons into a bin, her face scrunched in concentration as she scrutinized each one.

Gene approached her and grinned. “Hello, love,” he said, putting his hand in his pockets. “What's going on here?”

She looked up at him with her bright blue eyes, but didn’t reply, only resumed with her work.

Gene cleared his throat and sat in front of her, the bin now between them. He peered inside it. “Seems to me that you’re chucking your crayons, Miss,” he pointed out.

Ruthie nodded, throwing a crayon into another pile that was next to her.

“Are those keepers, then?” he asked, pointing to the pile.

She nodded again. “Throw away,” she told him, showing him an offending orange crayon.

In fact, what Gene suddenly realized is that all of the crayons she was tossing into the bin were different shades of orange.

“Why, Mouse?” he asked. "Why are you throwing those away?"

“Don’t like,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Ah, I see,” Gene said, placing his chin in his hands as he continued to watch her. “Do you not like orange, then?"

Ruthie wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“Why?”

“Ugly color.”

“Well, you like to _eat_ oranges,” Gene said. “Are those ugly?”

“Um, no,” Ruthie said, “I eat up.”

“You eat them up,” Gene repeated after her, “because they’re yummy, eh?”

“Yes, but...Papa...I don't like color.”

"You don't like the color." Gene nodded, seeming to agree with her toddler reasoning. “That's interesting. Well, can I ask a rather important question?”

“Uh huh,” she said, chucking a burnt orange crayon into her bin.

“What are you going to do when you want to _draw_ an orange?”

She paused in her investigation and looked at him, thoughtfully. “Draw them?”

“Yeah, if you feel like drawing an orange,” Gene said, “what color would you use? You can't use purple.”

“I like purple, Papa,” she said, smiling.

He smiled back. “I know you do, baby, but an orange isn’t purple.”

She paused in her activity again and puckered her lips, thinking. Ruthie then gasped, and announced, “No oranges!”

“Not ever again?”

“Yes! No oranges!”

“Right, that settles it,” Gene agreed as he stood. “No more oranges. I’ll throw them out immediately.”

“Throw what?” she asked, confused.

“You said ‘no oranges,’” he told her, “so I’m just going to toss out the oranges that we got at the shoppes today.”

“Papa!” she shrieked. “Don’t!”

“They’re the super sweet ones you like, too,” Gene teased her, shaking his head. “Shame you said no more.”

Ruthie instantly shot to her feet. “No, I like those!”

“Here I go!”

She chased after him. “Papa, donnn’t!” She wrapped her arms around one of his legs and held on tight.

 

Sam entered through the front door, fresh from work, and saw the commotion on the staircase. “What's going on?”

“Daddy!!” Ruthie whined as fresh tears stood in her eyes. “Papa throw them away!”

Sam placed his leather jacket on one of the pegs by the door. “Wait...what?” he asked. “He’s throwing what away?”

“My oranges!” Ruthie screamed.

“Why? What’s the matter with them?” Sam asked.

“She said she didn’t like them,” Gene explained, a mischievous grin on his face.

Ruthie released his leg and jumped up and down, frustrated. “No!” she cried, “The color! Papa, please!”

"Gene, please tell what's going on? What's wrong with the oranges?"

He still held his sly grin. "I found her throwing out all her orange crayons because she doesn't like the color and she said she wouldn't draw oranges anymore. I'm only teasing her, love."

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. He rubbed his face as he approached the stairs. “Come here, baby girl.”

She sniffed and wiped her face as she walk down the steps and let him pick her up and hold her.

“Your papa,” he said, “is playing a joke on you. He is _not_ going to throw out your oranges. Okay?” She nodded and he looked up at Gene. “Guv, she's two years old and already throws tantrums. Can you please not instigate them? You’re just getting her upset for no reason!”

Gene smirked. “I wasn’t---” He stopped himself and descended the stairs. He stroked Ruthie’s hair. “I’m sorry, baby. It was a mean joke. Forgive me?”

She immediately nodded again. “Yes,” she whimpered, a single tear running down her cheek.

Gene kissed it away and glanced at Sam, who was still glaring at him. “Rough day?” he whispered.

Sam licked his lips and his stern expression softened. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry.”

They shared a kiss and Ruthie giggled. Sam looked at her. “What’s funny, little girl?”

“Does our kissing embarrass you?” Gene asked, smiling again.

Ruthie hid her face.

“Do you think it’s sweet when we kiss?” Sam asked.

She nodded and brought her hands away from her eyes.

“Well, watch this, love,” Gene said, leaning into Sam again. He pressed his lips to his cheek and made noisy smacking sounds against it, and Sam giggled as it tickled him.

“Okay, stop it,” Sam said, “that’s embarrassing _me_!” He felt a sudden raspberry flutter onto his cheek. “Gene!”


End file.
